Kendrick Mountain, O'Leary Fire Lookout

09/08/26

I waited until the sun was well above the horizon before exiting the warm, condensation-slathered cocoon of my vehicle. Why? Partly because I wanted to see where I was, mostly because I wanted to rest just a few minutes more. Yesterday's excursion up to Mt. Humphreys and Mt. Elden had really done a number on the ol' legs and, surprise surprise, they didn't feel any better in the morning. If anything, they felt worse. Stiff, heavy, sore. Definitely in peak condition to climb another mountain, hahaha.

So I waited until the sun came up and I finally got a good look at the parking lot for the trailhead, something I didn't see last night on account of the pitch-black darkness. Lots of pine trees, an old wooden fence, an information sign, an outhouse, and not a single other vehicle in sight. Solitude was the word of the morning, and I was gonna enjoy every moment of it, sore legs be damned. 

Starting off on the trail

Kendrick Peak on the left

I started along the trail, the morning quiet and calm. The Indian cuisine that I had consumed last night was about to change that. Sprinted off the trail, dug the ol' cat hole, saw red for a few seconds, and then everything was back to normal, quiet morning and all.

Hopped back on the trail and simply fell into a rhythm. Legs still felt stiff as ever but the steady grade got the heart a-pumpin', providing my quads and calves with some much needed lubricant. Saw Kendrick Peak up ahead. Saw the lookout tower up there. Looked small. Looked far. No matter. Just did as I usually do and put my head down and trucked on up the trail, one switchback at a time. 

Kendrick Peak

Heading up the switchbacks, Kendrick Peak left

I eventually reached a flat area of sorts, no more up, no more switchbacks. Saw a wooden structure just off the trail, the historic Kendrick Lookout Cabin. Built in 1911, this little ol' shack has seen many visitors over the years. Not much on the inside; just a couple of tables, a ladder, a metal storage bin, and an orange register chock-full entries going all the way back to 2016. I lingered inside for a moment or two, skimming the entires, absorbing the essence of the place (and by that I mean hantavirus and a stale, woodsy aroma), and then I hopped out the door, ready to ascend the lookout tower. On my way out however, I noticed that someone had written something in faded sharpie on the top of the doorframe in tiny, scratchy letters. "The Love Shack." Hmmm. I guess this is what the B-52's were singing about all this time. 

Kendrick Lookout Cabin

Hit some more switchbacks and banged out the last little bit to the lookout tower in a huff and a screech. Sat down in the shade and nibbled on my last Clif Bar, my back soaked in sweat, my legs weary and wobbly. But I'd made it to the top and it was real neat and I climbed up the tower and took a look inside, boarded-up windows, cracked floor, scattered detritus everywhere. This thing was in much worse shape than the cabin, with an extra helping of hantavirus to boot. But at least the views were nice so I did a quick 360° around the rim of the lookout, stopping at random intervals to snap photos of the surrounding landscape.

Kendrick Peak Lookout Tower

A little worse for wear...

Nothin' but miles and miles of pine forest and ancient cinder cone volcanoes. Saw Humphreys out there, tall and prominent. Saw O'Leary Peak just to the left of it, far away and enigmatic. I still wanted to check it out later, but given my general state of lethargy, that probably wasn't gonna happen. Oh well. We'd just have to wait and see how I felt later in the day. Maybe I'd see it, maybe I wouldn't. Didn't matter. I was on top of a lookout tower rising out of a forest of green and it was awesome. Didn't think too much about the near future. Didn't wanna waste precious energy worrying about something that didn't even exist. Best to focus on what's in front of you and deal with it accordingly. 

Southeast: Humphreys Peak, O'Leary bottom left

Northeast

Southwest

Once I'd had my fill of the views, I waved goodbye to the lookout tower, flipped it a peace sign, and moseyed on down the trail. Somewhere along the way I got the idea to check out some other minor peaks that sat just off to the side, East Newman Hill and Newman Hill respectively. I'd seen 'em on the way up and they looked mildly interesting but, truth be told, they were vanity summits. Simple as that. Had no reason to climb them other than to say that I did. Very silly, I know, but at least they offered a scenic detour on my way back to the parking lot. 

Off-trail to East Newman Hill

First up was East Newman. I wandered through a vanilla-scented forest of old evergreens, slippin' and slidin' through a carpet of pine needles down a steep, shaded slope. Spooked some deer. Heard some birds. Performed a spoken-word rendition of Don McLean's "American Pie." Time passed along slowly, the seconds dripping on by like the water out of an ancient tap. 

And then I left the land of pines and wandered through the land of soft green grass, everything fresh and crisp and ever so pleasant on the olfactory system. Saw the summit. Wandered on over to the top. Oh joy. How exciting. And by exciting I mean not exciting at all. Just a grassy bump with a few pine trees and decent views of Newman Hill and Kendrick Peak. Again, this was a vanity summit, through and through. I don't see myself returning to East Newman. Not in a zillion years. 

The unassuming East Newman Hill

Kendrick Peak from East Newman

Newman Hill from East Newman

And then came the trek over to Newman Hill, another peak that I was sure to never visit again in a zillion years. It was simply something to do, a thing with which to pass the time, a grassy, pine-speckled nodule rising out of the unfathomable, incongruous crust of the Earth. Slid down more pine needles, hopped over some deadfall, performed another spoken-word rendition of "American Pie." It was something to do, and so I did it. And I hit a dirt road and crossed it and went straight up the east slope, lungs on fire, shouting on the exhale, moanin' and groanin' all the way to the top. 

An arch on the way to Newman Hill

Kendrick (left) and Humphreys (right) from Newman

Nothin' but grass and flowers on ol' Newman Hill. Very peaceful up there. Very pretty. If I had me a checkered blanket and some bread and cheese I'd have had me a dainty lil' picnic. But I lacked the food and the blanket and the daintiness, so I guess I was out of luck in that department. 

Good views of Kendrick and Humphreys from the summit, the grassy east slope strong and vibrant in the afternoon light. Really neat to see, but I doubt if I'll ever make the effort to head on up to ol' Newman again. It was a vanity summit after all,  a true "one-and done" sort of deal. And so I wandered around for a minute or two, took some photos, and then descended slightly to the southeast back to the dirt road, following it the rest of the way to the parking lot. 

Very pretty on Newman Hill

Following the dirt road to the parking lot...

There was another car in the lot, unoccupied. Must have been heading up to Kendrick Peak. Or something like that. I don't know. Sometimes people simply like drivin' out into the woods to do bugger all. Hell if I know what they were doing. Coulda been makin' stick puppets and rubbin' their bellybuttons for all I know. 

And so I hopped in my car and drove on out of there, dust flying out the back, the mysterious trailers and evidence of the huge bonfire I saw last night nowhere to be seen. Hit the blacktop, drove straight into Flagstaff, stopped at a Maverick gas station, nabbed me a buffalo chicken burrito, shoving it down my gullet while sitting in the parking lot like an absolute fiend, my clothes salty and sweat-stained and hair all greasy and crazy. 

And while I was sittin there in the parking lot, chuggin' water and washin' the gas station burrito taste off my palate, I realized I had to make a choice. Should I drive straight to O'Leary Peak, or hike a couple more vanity summits? Well, what do you think happened? 

Hikin' up a dirt road to more vanity summits...

Yep. I was in vainglorious, conceited mood, willing to push my weary legs to the brink. So I drove on over to a couple more minor bumps on the horizon, the so-called "Turkey Hills." Popular with dirt bikers, I parked my vehicle before the road got too insane, electing to jog most of the way to their summits. 

First one up was the taller, south hill. I pretty much followed a dirt road all the way to the top, the thing wrapping around the sides of the hill like the spirals in a lollipop. Got to the top, saw a bunch of tire marks in the sharp cinders. Yep. Ain't no reason to climb this here peak. Unless you really want to. 

Elden (left) and Humphreys (right) from South Turkey

North Turkey bottom left, O'Leary center on the horizon

Wanting to spare my legs from extra mileage, I boot-skied down the west slope, dodging prickly, pokey plants along the way. Hit the road yet again and followed it to the southwest slope of the north hill, not once questioning why it was that I was climbing it in the first place. Picked up a faint bike trail, following it until it disappeared entirely in the cinders and the scrub and the cactus. But no matter. It was obvious where to proceed. I slogged up the last little chunk to the summit in no time, the views exactly the same as those on the south hill. 

Heading up the north hill...

The south hill from the north hill...

Didn't linger too long up there, just enough for a cough and a burp and a sneeze (in that order). And then it was back to the boot-ski, back to gettin' cinders in my beat-up Altra's, back to dodgin' pokey plants and spookin' deer and runnin' through the woods and all that good stuff. Made it back to the car, emptied my shoes, chugged the last of my water, drove straight to Sunset Crater National Monument. Needed the refill. That's the only reason I went there, bwahahaha. 

Sunset Crater

Yep, I went through the gate, immediately stopped at the visitor center, filled up my bottles, and then turned around and drove back through the gate. The lady at the kiosk probably thought I was crazy. Or maybe she didn't even notice. How would I know? I ain't no mind reader. 

And so I drove to the trailhead for O'Leary Peak, parked the car, crossed the gate, and proceeded down the trail (which is really just a well-graded dirt road). By now the fatigue had fully caught up to me but I didn't care; I just kept on going. Hit an incline and started going up and up, waving "hi" to a dude and hus dog making their way back down. I reached a saddle of sorts, a sub peak known as "Darton Dome" rising off to the right. Ehh, what the hell. Today was a day of vanity summits. Might as well keep up the streak, you know?

O'Leary Peak (center) and Darton Dome (right)

Heading up Darton Dome...

View south from Darton Dome

O'Leary Peak from Darton Dome

So I slogged my way up to the top like the idiot I am, slippin' and slidin' in the cinders. Like all the vanity summits I'd climbed that day, Darton Dome was pretty on the eyes but uninteresting to the soul. No reason to go back whatsoever. Just a lot of snags and grass and flowers and cinders and decent views of the surrounding country. Kinda just wandered around the summit area without emotion or opinion for a minute and then set off back down to the road where I swallowed the remaining incline one step at a time.

And eventually I reached a sign and it pointed up to O'Leary Peak and I was like "Hey, that's not a vanity summit!" and so I ditched the road and followed a steep, loose use trail to the top, the only inhabitants of which were a small register and a weathered USGS benchmark. 

Heading up the use trail...

Ahh, finally, a decent summit. I saw Kendrick Peak out yonder, the sight of which filled me with a sense of mild pride and milder satisfaction. I'd done it. After all that, I'd actually done it. And it felt good. Not great, but good. Maybe it woulda felt better if I wasn't so damn tired. But good was enough and I signed the register, skimming through the scant entires. Placed in 2025, the thing hasn't seen many visitors; I'm guessing most folks skip it in favor of the lookout tower. 

The lookout tower on the left there

Humphreys dominating the view

I sat for a minute or two, meditated for a moment, and then set off towards the lookout tower. Like the one on Mt. Elden, this one was also closed to the public. No matter. Don't think I woulda had the energy to climb up the stairs anyways. I was beat. Simply sat on the bench and took a long breather, sippin' my water and eatin' the last of my food.

O'Leary Lookout Tower

Humphreys Peak...again...

There was a register chained to the bench. Like the one on O'Leary Peak, the booklet I signed was also placed in 2025, the only difference being that it had probably 800,000 more entries. Very popular spot this one is, and I can definitely see why. Dirt road all the way to the top, cool lookout tower, excellent views in all directions. What's not to love? 

And so I lingered for a while, the day almost done, my goals for the weekend pretty much met. There were a couple other summits that I didn't get to, particularly Wing Mountain and Big Williams Mountain. But those were always optional in my mind and I was glad to have climbed basically every single bump I saw on my drive into town yesterday. A rather successful weekend indeed. But it wasn't over yet. Still had to hike back to the car. Ugh. Here we go. 

Decided to run it. My legs were so done I just wanted to get it over with quick, like rippin' off a band aid on a hairy leg. And I almost ran the entire way back; used the downhill to my advantage and just coasted on down the road. But then I hit a flat spot and the downhill was no more and I was relegated a slow walk, but even that was enough to get me back to the car in good time. Holy moly roly-polie. Combined with yesterday's outing, my 2 day total ended up being 57 miles with over 15,000ft of elevation gain. Hot diggity dog. No wonder my legs wanted to kill me. 

I stretched, drank more water, drove on down the road, back to the highway, back to the desert, nothin' awaiting me save for a long drive into the long night. Drove by the Yummy Shack again. Thing was closed. Drove across the reservation, stopping for gas, the setting sun casting a shade of fire upon the red cliffs. Crossed the Colorado River, stopped at Lee's Ferry for a Gatorade and some pretzels. And the stars were out and the road was barren and I jammed out to the new Czarface album and my legs cramped up every few minutes but it was ok, they were just letting out their understandable anger. 

Got home and showered and went to bed. It had been a long couple of days, but also a very beautiful, very peaceful couple of days at that. Saw a part of Arizona I ain't never seen before. Saw some pretty mountains, vanity summits and all. Swore I'd never do anything like that again. But things never work out like that. There's just too much to see, and too little time to see it. The only way to get even the faintest taste of it all is to do as much as you can, when you can. And for me that's only two days. So of course I went all-out on my next days off, topping both this excursion to Arizona and my previous weekend on Timpanogos. But I'll have to write about that later...

Humphreys Peak, The Long Way

 09/07/26

It was raining when I left town. Couldn't see much. Apple Valley, Colorado City, Fredonia. I drove through these places in a haze, gazing upon them through the rain-splattered chaos of my windshield. Hardly anyone out and about. Not a whole lotta drivers on the road. Just gray skies, heavy droplets, saturated desert. 

And then I hit an incline and began the long ascent up the road to Jacob Lake and the rain dissipated for the time being, the heavy stuff hovering off to the west. On and on I drove, sunlight filtering through the clouds, stately pines scattered around like people at an amusement park with no sense of want or feeling.

Reached a junction, stayed on the main highway, utilized the engine break, coasted out of the pines, out of the mountains, down into the desert. The rain was mostly gone by now, all of it far away in the west. Nothin' but scattered clouds and open road and the simple perfume of the desert after a hard rain, a fresh aroma permeating from the earth, in the air, in my nose, everywhere, all the time. 

Vermillion Cliffs

Drove by the Vermillion Cliffs. Saw the Cliff Dweller Stone Houses, empty and cold. Drove across the Colorado River, heading south, the late afternoon light bouncing off everything, playing tricks on the mind. More damp desert, more aromatics. 

Threw an old mixtape in the CD player. Jammed out all the way through the reservation, stopping at the Highway 89 "Yummy Shack" for a quick bite. No windows, no doors. Just some wooden posts and plywood and a few benches. Got me some frybread. Honey, cinnamon, the works. Ordered me a "Navajo Taco" as well: more frybread, chili, cheese, lettuce, tomato. Greasy fare. Greasy hands. A beverage was included with the order; I grabbed it out of an ice chest. RC Cola. Haven't had one of those in a long time. Maybe ever. I don't know.

And there was this middle-aged guy loafin' around and he left in his truck and came back five minutes later with more RC Cola and dumped it in the ice chest and the ladies sat in camp chairs and talked about something I couldn't hear and then a local guy pulled up on a smokin' blue motorcycle. "Lot of cops out today" he said. "Oh, so you can't ride fast anymore?" said one of the ladies. "Naw," he said, "too many cops, too many flock cameras too, they even got one down by the Chevron." And I swear, just as he finished saying that, a person got pulled over right next to the shack, flashing lights and everything. 

And the guy ordered a "Navajo Burger" to go and he chatted with the ladies and the grandma lady was cookin' up everything in the back and the guy waited for the cop to leave and he hopped on his smokin' blue motorcycle and slowly, casually, pulled out of the dirt and onto the highway, destination unknown. 

Humphreys Peak

I ate in an unhurried, leisurely manner. Felt the wind blowing across the desert, the post-rain fragrance bombarding my nasal cavity. People came and went. Local kids. Local families. Traveling families. Husband and wife and baby drove all the way from Minnesota or Michigan or something in a camper van. "Long way from home" said one of the ladies. "Yep, sure are!" said the wife. 

And everyone was extremely nice there and the food, grease and all, was delicious. I finished my RC Cola and started heading out, but then one of the ladies struck up a conversation and I chatted for a little bit. Where you from? What do you do? Where are you going? Easy conversational tidbits like that. Told her I was gonna hike up the big mountain over there, "Mt. Humphreys I think is what it's called," in the morning. "Oh," she said. "Make sure to bring lots of water. Don't want to get dehydrated." "Ahh, yes." I said. "Will do."

And then the sun started to set and I drove on out of there, up the road, Mt. Humphreys looming on the horizon. Sun down, night approaching; I made a sharp right and drove off the highway down a dirt road, bumpy, bumpy, dusty. Dark now, headlights guiding the way. Pulled into a dirt parking lot; only a couple of other vehicles posted up there. Set up my pad and bag, read a single page of Moby Dick, and that did the trick—I was out.

Weatherford Trail

Silent morning, simple sunshine. Time to get up. Had a long day ahead of me. And that was by choice. Decided to take the long way to the top. Didn't have to do that. In fact, it was a pretty bad idea. I only had my weekend to do as much as possible and hikin' up to Arizona's highest point the long way would eat up quite a bit of said weekend. Wouldn't be able to do as much as I wanted. But that's ok. That was part of the plan.

You see, I wanted to take the long way. It's the respectful way; the only way were one can appreciate the mountain for what it is. You get a feel for the mountain. You get more of the story. You see more of the sights, hear more of the sounds. Sure it's tedious, time consuming, exhausting, mind-numbing. But that's part of the deal, all part of the reason to do it. I was in the mood to let my mind wander on a long walk through the mountains. So I got out of the car, grabbed my pack, and set off on the Weatherford Trail, the morning nice and cool and calm. 

Quite peaceful on the way up. Nothing but soft green grass, numerous wildflowers, vanilla-scented pine trees. Not a soul on that trail; had the whole thing to myself. Just kept walking along, traveling through the forest, some of it burnt, some of it pristine. Nothing on my mind; just a steady jaunt on a steady grade, following long switchbacks as they made their way up the mountain. 

Smelled a faint trace of campfire smoke at one point. Then I heard the voices. Big group comin' down, all dressed in black, walkin' their dogs, carryin' big ol' packs loaded down with overnight gear. Waved, passed 'em by, kept on going. Eventually I reached Fremont Saddle, Mt. Humphreys up ahead, still a good clip away. I sat down, chugged some water, nibbled on a Clif Bar, gazed upon the mountain. Oh yeah. This was gonna be a goodun. 

Mt Humphreys (center right) from Fremont Saddle

Hit the trail and kept on walkin', views of the Inner Basin coming into play now, the aspen leaves still as green as ever. Saw me a couple of trail runners zoomin' on down the trail, each one wearing nothing but a t-shirt, shorts, and a tiny little hydration vest. A bit cooler now, the air crisp and fresh. Walked through a forest of firs and tiny lil' mushrooms and then hit Doyle Saddle and started heading up, up, up into the land of rock and sun, no more forest, just a few scattered, shriveled, hardy little trees and shrubs. 

The Inner Basin

Fremont Saddle between Doyle Peak(left) and
Fremont Peak (right)

Gettin' closer...

Hit the junction with the Humphreys Peak Trail, the one that everyone and their brother seemed to be using that day. No more solitude. Now was the time for groups of people with their own stories and fitness levels and hopes and dreams and conversational topics revolving around how cold it was or the spectacular views or how long was it to the top or what they'd just watched the night before or about this really good restaurant they just went to that you just had to try. Infinite voices, infinite conversations. I passed people by, people passin' me, their conversations floating in my ear like an MF Doom instrumental track, their voices nothin' but samples on an album of meandering randomness with absolutely no focus. 

Almost there...

Hooray!

I got to the top, the summit crowded with folks of all walks of life. Old folks, young folks, kid folks, fit folks, fat folks, folks wearing name-brand clothing, folks in nothing but jeans and a hoody. The one thing tying them all together was the silence. That surprised me. Usually with a crowd as large as that, there's always someone talking. But not today. Even the dudes who were blasting music on the way up turned off their boombox when they got to the top. Everyone sat in silence, occasionally muttering only the briefest string of words into the brisk mountain air.

Very strange. But welcome. Helped me absorb the scene without much distraction. Being an ultra-prominent peak, ol' Humphreys had some of the best views I've ever seen from any summit, rivaling those I'd seen on Mt. Charleston earlier this year. Plus the weather was exceptionally clear so the views stretched off into infinity, the wide expanse of undulating earth merging with the soft sky in a blurry, unfathomable line on the distant horizon. I could see the Vermillion Cliffs out yonder, tiny and unassuming. Saw Kendrick Peak and O'Leary Peak, two places I expected to visit para la mañana. Could even see Navajo Mountain wayyyyyyyy out there, a tiny black bump rising out of rugged, incomprehensible desert. Only thing I could't see was the damn Yummy Shack. Oh well. 

North

East(ish)

South

West(ish)

Probably stood up there for all of ten minutes. And then it was time to go. Waved goodbye to the summit and started down the trail, the thing busy as ever. So many people, so many voices. One guy jokingly said to me "Hey, you only got five minutes to go! The parking lot's right there!" And I said "Nah man, I took the Weatherford Trail man, I got a long ways left man" and he was like "Wow, damn. Well good luck" and I waved him off and kept on going, my mind in a state of resolute aloofness. 

Passed the junction and immediately entered the land of solitude once again. Not a soul on that trail. Back to the long meditation, the dirt crunching underfoot, the breeze and the sun and the fatigue ever so slowly materializing in my wobbly legs. Down, down, down, out of the land of rock and sun, back into the forest, back to the Fremont Saddle, back to the burn area, the snags scattered around the slopes like the sun-bleached quills of a gigantic porcupine. 

Mt. Elden down there...

An arch

Snags

Only saw a few people on my way down, all of whom were heading up to the summit. Saw a trailrunner guy, bedecked in the same minimalist garb as all other trailrunners. Saw a young college-lookin' kid who was runnin' and stumblin' up the trail, corded earbuds, cotton t-shirt, basketball shorts. Saw a tired-lookin' guy who was completing a section of the Arizona Trail; dude was functioning on nothin' but hopes and dreams. And that was about it; after that—nobody. Just the pines, the grass and the flowers.

Oh my. The flowers. I don't know what it was about them; maybe they itched a scratch in my lethargic mind—I don't know. Whatever the case, I probably spent 20 minutes of extra time to stop and take trillions of pictures of them, they were just so beautiful. 

And so I ended my long hike to ol' Humpheys wandering along the trail and stopping every 2 seconds to snap several photos of the same flower from multiple angles, never quite able to capture its full beauty. And I returned to the dirt parking lot and there were a few folks scattered round, some of them bikers, some of them hikers, some of them hunters, most of 'em just passin' through on a joy ride across dirt roads beneath the pines and the dust and the wispy mountain air. 

Stretched, ate the last of my trail mix, got in the car, drove on out of there. It was just after 2pm. Still had a lot of day left. Still had some energy in my legs. Why not check out another peak? And so that's exactly what I did. Just drove straight to the parking area to the next closest objective, a peak I'd seen in the distance on my way down from Humphrey's: good ol' Mt. Elden. 

Starting the Elden Lookout Trail

Didn't know much about the trail to the top. Only knew that it was short and steep and that there was a lookout tower up there as a kind of reward for your efforts. So I grabbed my trekking poles and a liter of water and started up the trail, the thing relatively flat, not too bad at all...

Up...

and up...

and up!

And then I hit the grade and it was just up up up all the way to the top. Quite the workout, especially after hikin' Humphreys the long way. But this wasn't my first rodeo and fatigue is an old friend of mine so I simply found a comfortable stride and coasted the rest of the way to the top, my mind empty, focused only on the present moment. Heavy breathing, burning lungs, aching legs, a slight dizziness, sweat trickling down my nose, a salty crust forming on my face. Simple things, but they kept my occupied. 

I reached the lookout tower; had the whole thing to myself. Quickly discovered that it's closed to the public. Oh well. I half expected that. So I plopped down on a rock to catch my breath, lower my heart rate, relax a bit, rethink my life choices, you know, stuff like that. Rain clouds were forming in the northeast, isolated, scattered thunderheads vomiting brief yet powerful blasts of moisture upon the thirsty ground. Breath caught, heart rate back to something more reasonable, I gathered my gear and set off for just one more bump off in the distance: the unassuming "TV Hill."

Northeast

Southwest

TV Hill directly center

Flagstaff

TV Hill was a vanity summit. Ain't no reason to go out there. I hiked over to it because it was there. And that was reason enough. I simply followed a dirt road most of the way to the top of its boring, radio tower-encrusted summit, cutting through the grass to save my legs from unnecessary extra mileage. Stood up there for less than five seconds before I turned around and hiked back down the road, hopping over to the Sunset Trail so as to not ascend Mt. Elden a 2nd time. 

Heading back from TV Hill, Mt. Elden right

Cloud vomit

Rejoined the Elden Lookout Trail and hobbled the rest of the way down, my legs just about done for the day. I knew I probably shot myself in the foot and that I wouldn't be able to do everything I had planned for tomorrow, but, ehh, it was a good day. Saw some pretty flowers, pretty clouds, shiny rocks, green grass and stately pines. Couldn't ask for nothin' more, dammit!

And I reached the parking lot and immediately stretched, this session a lot more painful than the one after Humphreys. Somewhat relieved of soreness, I drove into Flagstaff and stopped at an Indian Restaurant where they only had one lady bussing tables, taking orders, answering the phone, processing online orders, AND training two new hires. Service was understandably slow but the food was superb and I left satisfied, the spices burning a hole in my weary stomach. 

Drove off into the night out of town and down another dirt road, this time heading towards the trailhead for Kendrick Mountain. Saw some funky things out there in the woods. Big ol' bonfire out in the middle of nowhere, trailers tucked away without any lights, no sounds, pitch-black darkness all around save for the starry sky up above. Pulled into the parking lot and immediately set up my stuff and conked out on my pad, my legs finally twitching and cramping from a long day in the sticks. Hiked a combined 30 miles with about 7,800ft of elevation gain. Yikes. Tomorrow was gonna be fun, hahaha.